Scrubbing Cauldrons
by AmaranteX
Summary: Josephine's only goal for her 7th year at Hogwarts, was to behave just enough to avoid scrubbing cauldrons in detention. That is, until she encounters Severus Snape's unorthodox methods of punishment, and finds herself pondering just how much scheming she can get away with. Warning: M-rating for naughty stuff. Student/Teacher. OC/Snape.


A bit of a naughty (belated) birthday present for NemiNightingale.

Warning: Smut.

* * *

Josephine's steps were loud in her ears as the sound of her polished shoes against the cold stone floors of the dungeons reverberated and echoed down the hallway. It was a familiar sound, but one that had her hurrying her steps, as the sound of a lone pair of feet usually signified that class was about ready to start, and that she might just be late for it.

As she reached the door to the potions classroom, it was closed; not an unusual occurrence as Professor Snape—as most other Hogwarts teachers—enjoyed his privacy, but as Josephine cautiously pushed the door open, it was filled to the brim with the usual Ravenclaws and Slytherins. She almost had a heart attack at her bad luck of catching the class in session, until her eyes drifted towards the front of the classroom, and noticed that Severus Snape was nowhere to be seen.

With a sigh of relief Josephine slid quietly inside, and closed the door behind her, paying great attention to the sound—or hopefully lack thereof—as she pushed it shut. Turning around, she scanned the room to make entirely sure she hadn't missed him, but the chatter and relaxed atmosphere in the room had her convinced Potions class had yet to begin.

"Over here," Emma called out loudly with a great wave, drawing the attention of Josephine—along with a couple of other Ravenclaws who glared at her in annoyance for causing the loud interruption to their pre-lesson studies—who smiled and made her way through the classroom, dodging chairs, legs, books and tables on the way to her assigned seat.

Dropping her book on the table with a loud thud, she threw herself into the seat beside Emma.

"You don't have to scream at me, we have assigned seats, y'know?"

Emma looked insulted.

"Of course I know, you dimwit, I figured you'd forgotten with the way you were scrutinizing the decor, as if you were looking at a bloody home design magazine. I hope you're not planning to turn my dorm into a snake pit; having to hang out in the dungeons from time to time is a chilling enough experience for me, without having to live in it. We eagles are not made for that kind of environment," she babbled, clearly too tired for first period Potions.

"What the hell are you waffling about?" Josephine snickered before laying her head on the table, muttering about it being 'too bloody early' for class.

"I have no idea," Emma laughed back before continuing: "What were you looking at?"

Emma routinely buried her hand in Josephine's long, black locks to cuddle her hair, which gained her a cat-like purr from the tired Slytherin.

"For your information, I was checking to see if Snape was here. I don't fancy spending my last weekends as a seventh year scrubbing cauldrons," Josepine retorted, moving closer to Emma to grant her a more adequate cuddling-range.

"Sounds reasonable," came Emma's response, just as the door to the classroom slammed open, and their very own dungeon-bat came rushing through the door. His robes flowed around him dramatically as he turned around, standing completely still before his desk as he looked over his suddenly quiet students. With no words about his tardiness he put them to work.

"Turn to page three hundred and seventy six, where you will find the instructions for todays potion," he droned on, sending them all a severe glare that signaled he had gotten the wrong foot out of bed this morning, and would be handing out detentions left and right if they were to cross him.

"You will have until the hour is out to finish it, so I suggest you refrain from any lollygagging, as an incomplete Amortentia brew at the end of the lesson, will result in a Troll," he continued, looking pointedly at Emma Clifford with an intensity that burned with a thousand suns. She suddenly felt terrified for her life.

"It goes without saying, that if you so much as try to drug any of your fellow students, you will be scrubbing cauldrons for a year." He sent the class a final look. "Begin," he finished, turning with a flourish and depositing himself into his chair where he aggressively pulled out a quill and started scratching on what suspiciously looked to be their essays on Golpalott's Third Law.

"There goes that passing grade," Emma sighed, mourning the Dreadful she was certain to be getting on her paper if he was grading whilst in a foul mood. Josephine joined her, but her sigh was accompanied by a lingering look at their sulking professor. Her thoughts as she scrutinized his nimble fingers grasping the inked quill were certainly not on said fingers' abilities to cut up potion ingredients or swing a wand... Or... On second thought.

A mild hit to her shoulder forced her out of her daydream.

"Josie!" she hissed, the sound scarily resembling that of a snake. They had definitely been spending too much time together, if Emma was beginning to mimic the mannerisms of the Slytherin house mascot.

"What?" Josephine hissed back, rubbing her arm in irritation. It hadn't really hurt, but she figured it wouldn't hurt to try to coax some guilt from her abusive friend.

"Please tell me that longing sigh isn't what I think it is," Emma said, narrowing her eyes at her friend, who had previously been busy ogling her head of house. Josephine's eyes were glued to the front of the classroom as she replied.

"I had a dream again last night," she started, not even sparing Emma a single glance as she stared down her oblivious professor. "And now I just can't get over how handsome he is," she mumbled, taking in the way Severus Snape was correcting an essay with red ink, dripping it all over the parchment with his jerky, angry movements.

"Handsome?" Emma questioned. "Are we looking at the same person?"

Emma's eyes reluctantly took in the old dungeon bat in confusion; how his hands absentmindedly brushed his poorly washed hair back from his dark eyes, so they without hindrance and with attention to meticulous detail could scan the parchment in front of him to catch even the smallest mistake. If he weren't so scary, he'd be a pretty anonymous being. From his wrists to his throat to his ankles his body was covered in a heavy frock that he seemed to sport all-year long, even when spring turned to summer and the heat struck the Hogwarts grounds with unyielding ferocity. Emma failed to see the appeal.

Emma's sudden and rare moment of silence prompted Josephine to look away from the object of her affections and set her gaze upon her now very focused friend.

"I'm beginning to have my doubts about you," she stated with a raised eyebrow, at the scrunched nose of her Potions partner. Emma was obviously finding Severus Snape lacking.

"Well, so am I! What part about him is it? His lovely bat-like demeanor, his incredible unwashed hair, or the fact that he's a _teacher?_" she whispered, her voice heavy with sarcasm. Her comment did not gain her the intended outcome, and instead of the semi-insulted pout she had been looking for, she was greeted with a mischievous smirk that seemed all too Slytherin for Emma not to be worried about what was coming.

"You know, it's funny," Josephine stated smugly, raising an eyebrow at Emma.

"What is?" the Ravenclaw replied, her demeanor guarded.

"How you can say that with a straight face, considering the fact that you get all hot and bothered over Professor Lupin every time we have Defence class," she shot back, hissing as Emma gently tugged on her hair in warning.

"That is completely different!" Emma's hand continued her previous hair-cuddling in apology.

"How is that any different?" Josephine questioned softly, closing her eyes at the soothing sensations of someone massaging her scalp.

Emma leaned closer.

"Well, first of all he doesn't look like a bat," she spoke teasingly into Josephine's ear, knowing it wasn't a fact likely to deter her. Knowing her, the bat-comparison would most likely only further her excitement.

"Yeah… Completely different," Josie commented dryly, opening one eye to glare at her.

"Well, if you're that hung up on him, why don't you try to seduce him?"

The silence between them hung heavily, but was filled with the gentle sounds of chopping and stirring coming from the surrounding tables that was suspiciously lacking from their own.

"Seduce him?" Josephine questioned flatly.

"Yes."

"Him?"

"Yeeees."

"Severus Snape?"

"Are you hard of hearing?" Emma questioned, snapping her free hand in front of Josephine's ear to gain a reaction that confirmed she was indeed not turning deaf. A flinch and a hit to the shoulder later, Josie's ability to hear was confirmed.

"No, I was just making sure I got your message right, because it's completely insane," she retorted, making sure her face was set into an appropriately skeptical look, that conveyed just how _silly_ she found the entire idea. Well, perhaps _silly_ wasn't the right word. Maybe bonkers, daft, something of the sort would be more appropriate, given the fact that they were talking about initiating sexual intercourse with a teacher, and not about something distinctively more childish like the entirely disproportionate percentage of vomit-flavored Bertie Bott's beans you would find in one box. They had once been so unlucky to purchase a particularly nasty box where all of eighteen percent of the contents were able to both taste of vomit, and induce it.

"Then it's right up your alley," Emma answered, her demeanor positively peppy. It was sickening, but Josie couldn't help but grin at Emma's _silly_ behavior. There, that was more of a proper use for the word.

"What do you know, you've actually got a point there, my fair Ravenclaw."

The answer was punctuated by a raised eyebrow before she closed her eyes and laid her head back down, tapping Emma's unacceptably motionless hand for a couple of seconds, to get her back to work on Josephine's hair.

"Thank you, my lovely Slytherin," she teased, blowing air on Josie's ear—Josie tried and failed to bat her away—before returning to her duties as personal hair-petting slave.

"A little to the left," Josie muttered, turning her head to ensure maximum hair-petting pleasure, before she was interrupted by a small tug on her sensitive strands. She opened one eye to glare at her friend, before noticing a black shadow roaming the room out of the corner of her eye.

"He's coming over here," she stated, no urgency in her words, but Emma's reaction was— given her fear of their Potions teacher—as always, entirely hilarious. Unluckily for Josie, her friend had her entire right hand buried in her Cthulhu-like, menacing-sea-creature-hair and had difficulties extracting it, leading to a lot of tugging and a lot of whispered swearing.

"Bloody hell, it's a wonder you haven't lost any quills in here," Emma swore, now using both hands in her endeavor to untangle her right one. Josephine struggled to sit still and spoke through clenched teeth.

"I have actually, once. I'm still not entirely sure where it ended up."

A particularly hard tug later… "Ouch!"

"It's like a vanishing cabinet in there," were Emma's last words, before the black shadow had moved to their table, clearly having noticed their struggles.

Severus Snape's face looked entirely disinterested, but his voice sounded anything but.

"Miss Clifford, will you kindly disentangle yourself from Miss Smith?"

Emma braved a small, but very fake smile.

"I'm trying, sir," she muttered, the grimace on her face clearly portraying the stress she was currently undergoing and her mortification at being caught. Again. For the fifth time this year. It took one last painful tug for Emma's hand to come free, after which she cradled it against her chest, glossy-eyed at what Snape would do to her. Josephine sent a menacing glare her way, rubbing her skull to soothe the ache.

"Now, please enlighten me, as to why you have yet to collect your ingredients," he droned, glaring unblinkingly at Emma.

"Oh, I was jus-," Emma started, but was mercilessly cut off mid-sentence.

"Spare me the details, Clifford."

Getting the hint, and being very eager to depart the immediate area, Emma jumped at the opportunity.

"I'll go get them, sir," she spoke quickly and power-walked away, leaving the two Slytherins to themselves at the table. Traitor.

Josephine looked to the secret object of her affections.

"I'm sorry, sir, we'll get started right away," she stated, her tone relaxed and pleasant. His stony glare did nothing in the ways of scaring her off. But that's what she got for growing up in a pureblood family; half her relatives were either convicted murderers or just plain frightening, leading to her—bordering on unhealthy—disregard for anyone mildly unpleasant.

Snape paused to skeptically inspect her laid-back attitude.

"Make sure you do," he snapped before turning on the spot, swishing his robes dramatically behind him.

Had she been raised like anything less than the fine lady she was so clearly expected to become, she would have laughed.

It didn't take more than ten seconds before Emma came slinking back, checking over both her shoulders to confirm that Snape was gone before setting down the potion ingredients on the table.

She threw herself back into her chair and let out a sigh of relief.

"Well, he's in an awfully good mood. I didn't even get detention." Emma sounded even more surprised than she looked, which was quite the accomplishment given her eyebrows were halfway up her forehead.

"It's a Christmas miracle," Josephine retorted dryly, opening her book to page three hundred and seventy six to find the instructions for the potion.

"I'll believe _that_ when I see it," Emma muttered back, shooting a look towards the corner of Josephine's book for the page number before opening her own book on the same page, peeling a hairband off her wrist in order to prepare her hair for the proverbial war zone they were about to enter.

As usual, it didn't take longer than forty minutes before disaster struck.

A frazzled Emma was leaning over the potion, her hair sticking everywhere it wasn't supposed to, while an annoyed Josephine was leaning back in her chair—having already finished her turn to stir—while scrutinizing the technique Emma employed to get the potion done.

"It said _counter_ clockwise, not clockwise! Why are you so terrible at this?"

Josephine pointed to the relevant text in the book, while scrunching her nose at the color of the potion, which was very far from being the mother-of-pearl sheen they had read about in the book. They did have the spiralling steam part down, but Josephine suspected it had more to do with the overheated cauldron than with the actual proper brewing of the potion.

"Don't look at the book while stirring, you'll mess up your count!" she scolded, as Emma leaned over the cauldron to scrutinize the words in the textbook, hoping not to have been wrong about the direction of her stirring.

One of Emma's eyebrows snapped up, meaning she was preparing for a sassy comment of epic proportions.

"Well, perhaps I wouldn't be so terrible at this, if I was hoping to be the future Mrs. Bat, like _someone_ I know," she mocked, stopping her movements with the ladle in order to change her direction of stirring.

Unfazed by her comment, Josephine looked up as the tables within a five-meter radius were silenced as if by magic. She had no doubts as to the reason.

"Shush, he's coming back." Her comment was underlined by a warning look shot Emma's way.

"I see you're being absolutely useless as always, Miss Clifford," Snape intoned, risking a short gaze down the cauldron before stepping back, apparently not willing to be within spatter-distance of the potion, should it decide to act in discrepancy with it's natural state—given it was brewed properly—and, for lack of a better word, act out.

The moment Josephine looked towards Emma and saw that one eyebrow was still raised to the halfway point between her eyes and her hairline; she knew it wouldn't end well. Emma's sass-mode was still very much activated.

"Terribly sorry sir, I couldn't help but be distracted by your Inferius-like allure. Which undertaker did your funeral?" she asked through gritted teeth, trying unsuccessfully to count her stirs whilst insulting the now seething teacher beside her.

Josephine groaned and buried her face in her hand.

Snape's jaw clenched to what looked like a painful degree.

"Detention tomorrow, Clifford," he snapped, tapping his wand to vanish the contents of the cauldron, much to the frustration of Emma.

"Acceptable work, Miss Smith," he spoke, his tone only marginally softer, though she had no idea what he meant by 'acceptable work', given the fact he had just vanished their potion and most likely given Emma a Troll.

He turned around, stalking towards his desk to—yet again—pick up his quill and angrily stab at their essays.

"See? I knew it was too good to be true," Emma spoke with a sigh, dropping back into her seat.

"That, was your own fault," Josephine pointed out, unable to repress the smirk that was making its way onto her face.

"I still think you should seduce him," Emma grumbled, closing her textbook now that they had nothing to do for the rest of the class, having so spectacularly failed with the Amortentia brew.

Josie scoffed and shot a look towards Snape, plotting. "I still think you're off your trolley."

Emma grinned. "The Wizengamot's still out on that one."

Shooting another look towards Snape, Josie made a decision and pushed herself off her chair and started walking to the front of the room before her arm was grabbed by Emma, halting her in her steps.

"Wait, where're you going?" she asked, and lowered her voice to a whisper before continuing. "Please tell me you're going to proposition him right in front of the entire class." Emma snickered at the thought until her hand was batted off by Josephine, after which she adopted a grumpy sort of scowl that made her look a bit like a kicked puppy.

"Though that would be most amusing, I'll have to save that for another class. After all, can't let you have detention all on your own, now can I?"

Josie winked at Emma and with purposeful steps strode to the front of the room, the eyes of her classmates curiously following her death-march. Josie tried—and failed—to swallow the lump forming in her throat, at the thought of what she was about to do. It was practically suicide, but anything for a friend.

As she reached Professor Snape's desk, she cleared her throat, gaining not only her professor's attention but the attention of the rest of the class as well.

He looked up from the red-stained essay he was grading—Josie reminded herself to get a pair of Professor Sprout's earmuffs before tomorrow's dinner as it looked like Caulderwalt would be receiving several Howlers for the grade Snape was giving her—to eye her nervous form suspiciously. His eyes stopped at her inappropriately shortened skirt, and she decided to get it over with before he decided to take off points for violation of the dress code.

Straightening her back, now that she had his attention, she lifted her chin and did the perfect impression of the pureblood-snob the Gryffindors expected her to be.

"Excuse me, Professor Snape?"

He raised an eyebrow in question. "Yes?"

His voice was deep, and she couldn't help but be a little bit ashamed of the fact that she reacted to it. Clearing her throat, yet again, to be able to speak clearly, she started.

"I was wondering about something. Do you know what you get, when you cross a Dementor and a Boggart?"

The class was completely silent.

Snape's eyebrow rose higher, and he sent her a look that was normally reserved for Gryffindors and particularly dimwitted Hufflepuffs.

"No, and I fail to see the relevance," he droned, preparing himself to look back down at the essay in front of him.

Ignoring his comment, she pushed on. "You get Severus Snape."

If it had been quiet before, it was now as silent as the grave Josephine would surely soon be laid to rest in. She could easily imagine the look of overwhelming horror mixed with amusement on Emma's face, but she didn't dare turn around to see it.

Snape's eyes shot daggers at her, and she could tell he was just about to spontaneously combust from anger.

A cough coming from somewhere in the back of the room jerked Snape out of his angry stare, and he stood from his chair, looming menacingly over her.

"Everyone. Out," he hissed through gritted teeth, and within seconds a flurry of activity erupted as everyone struggled to gather their things and bottle a sample of their potions in a pace never before seen in the British teenage population. It's a wonder what an enraged Severus Snape does for motivating the troubled youth.

Knowing the comment didn't apply to her, she stood firmly in her spot, ignoring the commotion surrounding her, whilst sending her infuriated professor cheeky grins every now and then. It took the students three minutes to clear out.

"Miss Smith," he started, addressing her. "What a coincidence, that I should receive such a performance, right as I have given Miss Clifford a detention for tomorrow night. Surely, a Slytherin such as yourself is below such childish schemes to help a friend in need," he hissed, looking right through her. Being the head of the most cunning house in Hogwarts, he must have seen it all by now, but it didn't deter Josephine from getting her way.

"Naturally, Professor," she replied pleasantly, hoping to be able to charm her way out of the situation. Her reaction, she noticed, visibly annoyed him. The outermost part of his jawline twitched as his jaw clenched, and Josephine inhaled sharply at the small movement.

Snape didn't seem to notice, as he droned on: "Then please elaborate upon the reason for my finding you standing before the class, ridiculing your own Head of House with childish jokes?"

Gathering her wits, after being unexpectedly turned on by something as small and insignificant as a twitch of Snape's jaw, she continued with her schemes. "A joke?"

Her question was posed innocently, with wide eyes and a feigned confused look, before she continued, acting embarrassed at his—very correct—interpretation of her incentive.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"It was an honest question, sir."

The narrowed eyes turned into a fiery glare, which seemed only able to be matched in intensity by Fiendfyre. She wished the scorching look were loaded with something entirely different than anger.

"Detention. After dinner."

The words of dismissal had her mentally cursing out the man who had just effectively ruined her scheming plans. Detention with Severus Snape wasn't bad in itself—she rather enjoyed being able to look at him more than her few weekly lessons allowed—but being caught by her own sneaky strategizing, and now being forced to cancel her plans for the evening left an unpalatable taste on her sensitive taste buds.

'Unless…'

She eyed the vials left on the table by the Ravenclaws and Slytherins attending the class before they were so rudely banished from the room on her account.

As he turned around to stalk out of the room and into what Josephine concluded must be his own private quarters, she impulsively reached out and snatched one of the most presentable-looking vials standing in a rack on the desk for later grading and stuffed it into her robes before turning on her heel to hastily exit the room. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears as the door slammed slut behind her, and a pleased smirk played on her lips at her accomplishment. She stopped for a second to gather her thoughts, before stalking down the corridor of the Dungeons, planning on joining Emma for dinner in the Great Hall, who must by now be eagerly awaiting her and whatever stories she brought with her to the dinner table.

* * *

"So, what'd Professor Petulant say to your little show?"

Emma's question was asked through a full mouth of mash. The surrounding students looked on with ill-disguised disgust as her entire chewed-up dinner was put on display for their viewing pleasure. Josephine couldn't help the amused twitch of her lips as she watched the nearby Birdbrains frown and moan about her friend's eating habits. They should know their own housemate enough to know that she cared just as little about their opinions as she did about Gobstones, which was remarkably little.

"Oh, he wasn't too bothered by it," Josephine lied, flipping hair over her shoulder with a grin.

Emma paused, putting down her fork while looking at Josephine in amused disbelief. "Right, and my brother is a Hippogriff," she replied, an eyebrow raised at her obvious attempt to pull one over on her.

Josie looked skeptically at her. "You don't have a brother," she stated.

"No, ergo, I do not have a brother who is a Hippogriff," Emma answered matter-of-factly, gesturing with her fork to stress her point before continuing. "Now, spill."

Josie looked around before lowering her voice and weaving her tale of the angered professor and the poor innocent Slytherin. Somehow the effect was lost on Emma who knew her friend all too well—whilst also having seen the display leading up to this little anecdote—to completely accept her in the role of the pure and innocent student who fell victim to the cruel and unlawful Potions teacher. At the end, Emma was practically in tears at the work of fiction her friend was reciting to her, but had gotten the gist of the truth beneath the Shakespearean-like drama Josephine had added for effect.

"So, you have detention right after dinner," Emma concluded, putting down her fork as she had emptied her plate.

"Yes. Sadly the man saw right through me. We'll have to reschedule our library-date for another day," Josie answered with a sigh, placing an elbow on the table before resting her chin in the palm of her hand.

"Right. I'll probably go anyway. I have some Transfiguration homework that needs tweaking," Emma answered with a shrug. It had been worth a try.

Deciding it was time for a change of subject, Emma turned towards her, throwing one leg over the bench to sit sideways on the seat and give Josie her full attention.

"So, do you know what you're going to be doing?"

Josephine pushed back a grin at the thought of the vial of Amortentia in her robes.

"Not yet, but I have a feeling it'll be most entertaining," she answered conspiratorially, before opening up her robe a bit, allowing for Emma to catch a small glimpse of the vial inside, before tugging her robe close again, and quickly rising from the table. Snatching a golden goblet from the table in the process, she hastily walked out of the Great Hall before her gaping friend started asking questions.

Josephine knew she'd be seeing her later in the library.

* * *

After having taken a short detour to the seventh year girl dormitory, she rushed out the common room and down the corridor to get to Professor Snape's office, a large, dark bottle and the golden goblet she snatched from the Great Hall cradled in her arms.

She knew she was most likely late, which would certainly not put the professor in a better mood, but she shrugged it off, hoping what she held in her hand could remedy that.

She stopped in front of the door to his classroom, and rearranged the objects in her arms in order to raise one hand and knock, but the door was pulled open before her hand hit the wood.

Snape stared down at her, taking a quick look at the expensive bottle of mead in her hand and the single goblet before stepping back to let her by. While she had expected for him to admonish her for being late, his face was completely blank, allowing Josephine absolutely no insight into what he was thinking and just how angry she should expect him to be. Not that it mattered much, with the plan she was about to put into action.

Josie stepped past him into the classroom, noting with distaste the cauldrons stacked up in the back of the room that she would—without a doubt—be scrubbing if she didn't make this work. She withdrew her gaze and walked towards his desk to put down the mead and the accompanying goblet, before turning to her Head of House who was towering up over her as she turned around.

"My father sent me this today. Told me to ask you, if you'd be so kind as to recommend a suitable wine served alongside it at the Spring ball," she started, continuing on with her speech before he was given the chance to refuse. "Given your advanced palate he deemed you the most advisable critic."

Severus Snape was still silently observing her, his face revealing nothing of what was going on inside him. Gaining no reply, she followed it up with a comment she hoped would spur him on.

"He asked for a reply tonight."

Finally gaining somewhat of an answer—a raised eyebrow and a dismissive wave of his robes as he turned around to place himself behind his desk—she quietened, and awaited his further instructions.

He wordlessly waved his wand towards the bottle on the table which opened itself and without further prompting poured its contents into the goblet. Snape sent her a pointed look, before exhaling deeply in something resembling an annoyed sigh.

"Though you are not a Ravenclaw, Miss Smith, I am certain you have deduced what you will be doing this evening."

"Certainly, sir," she answered, her tone compliant and pleasant.

"Then you may see fit to begin," he droned as he lifted the goblet, his annoyance at her dawdling clear as day.

"Right," she mumbled, turning on her heal to walk towards the back of the classroom where cauldron upon cauldron was stacked in an unpleasant display that would be large enough to hold her in detention for a solid couple of hours if her plan didn't work out. Knowing this could take a while, she shrugged off her outer robes, leaving her in her uniform.

Just as she had stopped and bent down to inspect a particularly nasty cauldron she heard a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the room.

"Miss Smith. Wand."

His voice was oddly stiff. Josie couldn't help herself but wondering if this was a sign of having ingested the potion she had so sneakily poured into the mead, but it looked like it was time to find out.

Getting back on her feet she turned around, and walked back to the desk where Snape was rising from his chair, the goblet placed neatly on the table. She snuck a look at it, but couldn't tell whether he had taken a sip from it or not.

He swiftly joined her at the other side of the desk, and as he snatched the wand out of her hand, she had a feeling this wasn't going to go all that well. Her professor's jaw was clenched and though he was trying not to display any outwards signs of anger, it was clear as day he was irritated. To which degree, Josephine had yet to find out.

Without sparing her another look, he pulled her arm to him in a tight grip, walking behind her while drawing her back against his chest, her own wand pressed against her side.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his hard body against her. For a second she thought the potion was working, but the wand pressed against her side spoke differently. Fear sparked in her, and her mind was going faster than a Firebolt as she thought of what she could do to bring herself out of this predicament.

He grasped her hair in his hand, and pulled her head back to whisper gruffly in her ear.

"Hopefully, you do not believe I would be as easily ensnared as to accept a drink from a mere girl the very same day we were studying Amortentia," he hissed, tugging at her dark strands to coax a whimper from her throat.

She was momentarily stunned, and completely speechless from his actions. She should probably have known he'd know the smell of the potion, even through the strong alcohol she had mixed it with.

"You must take me for a fool," he continued, tightening his grip, before confirming her suspicions. "The smell of Amortentia is unmistakable, even when mixed with something as pungent as mead," he spat, letting go of her hair to push her head forward.

Their proximity inspired a tiny little voice that sounded suspiciously like Emma to whisper in her mind: 'Why don't you try to seduce him?'

She felt like hitting herself for her stupidity at not thinking of this immediately; it was more or less what she was here for in the first place.

Taking her time to answer, she subtly arched her back and attempted to push back against him, trying to pull him closer, but he held her firmly, unwilling to let her closer to him than absolutely necessary.

She looked over her shoulder, biting her lower lip as she took in his darkened eyes and slightly quickened breath that she hoped was due to their proximity.

"Well, I hoped you weren't," she bluffed in a breathy voice, hoping she could stroke his ego enough to get to stroke something entirely different. "And you proved me right."

His silence seemed deliberating, calculating, as he looked at her.

His hand that was holding her wand let go and instead grasped onto her waist. She almost cried out in relief.

His eyes lost none of their intensity, but he raised one hand, and moved her head to face forward, using the same hand to bend her over her table. He was silent as he finally allowed for her hands to reach behind his thighs and tug him closer to her. The feel of his front against her behind had her sighing and the large hand that trailed further up her side had her stiffening against him in anticipation.

He stuck a leg between hers, pushing them outwards so her legs formed an inverted v while sliding one hand beneath her crisp white button down, and felt the shivers on her soft skin. Goosebumps appeared in the wake of the trail from his hand, as it rose closer and closer to her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat as he paused just beneath the intended destination. With one hand trapped right at the bottom of Josephine's sternum he reached the other between the spread legs, starting mid-thigh only to sweep upwards slowly, softly until the young woman in front of her started squirming against him in impatience.

"Cease your infernal wiggling," he berated, stopping his hand from moving entirely until she stood completely still, allowing his hand to continue its voyage north. As he reached the uppermost part of her leg, he thumbed the line between her thigh and the delicate arch that curved upwards, before reaching downwards. Josie stifled a moan at the finger trailing lightly over the underwear. Softly thumbing it to the side he trailed over her lower lips, shifting forward with his index finger to test the waters. As he pushed past her lips, she held her breath, waiting for him to decide which way to venture. His first choice was upwards. One finger slowly and teasingly inched higher, making Josie's breath hitch from his ministrations. He finally located her clit, and Josephine found herself unable to utter a single syllable as he circled it gently, slowly ghosting over the sensitive nerve bundle.

He pressed against it for a second, before relocating his fingers, this time inching downwards. Finding just what he was looking for seconds later, Josephine let out a loud moan as one of his fingers entered her. His digit slicked in easily, making it clear what effect he had on her. He moved it slowly, in and out, to the sound of Josie's heavy breathing. Feeling she was ready for further intrusion, he pushed forward another finger, joining his index finger with his middle finger. The heavy breathing turned into strained moans as she rocked backwards to meet his fingers as they moved within her. He finally trailed his other hand upwards and dived under her bra, clutching one breast in his large hand. Given her body's reaction to his actions, Severus wasn't surprised to notice that her nipple was already hard and puckered under his touch. Wanting to provoke an even bigger reaction out of her, he rolled the hardened nipple between two fingers, tightening his fingers around it in something akin to a pinch. Josie responded immediately and he drew out a long and throaty moan from her throat, as she arched her back.

The sound stirred something in him, and he pushed forward to let his clothed front connect with her behind for just a second.

As his front finally pressed against her Josie almost came undone; She couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't feel anything but his hands on her.

She was so absorbed by his touch that she almost didn't register when he pulled his hands away and abruptly turned her around. Her torso that had previously been bent over Severus' desk was now upright and chest to chest with her professor.

His rough hands pushed her to her knees. The fragile skin that wasn't coved by her school regulated socks scraped painfully against the unyielding stone, but she found that she couldn't care less, as she revelled in the new view revealed to her.

The implications that came with her new position were not entirely unpleasant, and Josie couldn't deny she wished for what obviously lay ahead. She threw a quick glance upwards, but found no answer to her unasked question at the blank stare Severus sent back.

Knowing the decision was now entirely hers, she proceeded. The fabric was soft beneath her hands as she pulled at the frock, hoping to gain entrance to what lay behind; if she could just get those bloody buttons to cooperate. Most unhelpful as usual, Severus resorted to merely looking down at her, waiting patiently for her fingers to find their intended destination.

It took longer than Josephine had hoped to get past the barrier of buttons, but as soon as she was through with the last one that opened up to his pants from waist to mid-thigh she impatiently pushed her hand against him, and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as she pressed gently, running her thumb up and down him through the fabric of his black trousers. She could feel him tightening under her ministrations, and grasped his length a little bit tighter to get a reaction out of him. She looked up to meet his dark eyes that gleamed back at her, keeping her rooted to the spot. There was something in his eyes. Something that she didn't know how to interpret. It was neither promise nor rejection, but how far he would allow her was something she had yet to find out.

She knew she was pushing at boundaries—for both him and herself—but she couldn't bring herself to stop. It had started as a scheme, but she had a feeling it would end as so much more, if they both would let it, anyway.

Breaking the connection between their heated glares she looked down, focusing on the part of him that was steadily rising to the occasion. Without looking back up at him—she feared whatever was in his eyes had changed and tipped the scales out of her favour—she set to work on his trousers. She had far less difficulties than with his frock, and as soon as the black material parted she dove her hand inside to feel him. Josephine wasn't surprised at the fact, that she was met with yet another layer of cloth, given the fact that her professor in all other aspects seemed eager to cover up in layer upon layer as not to make it easy to push forward to what lay beyond. For Josie it was both annoying and in a way enticing, how Snape kept himself in such a tight grip, allowing close to nothing to bleed through his boundaries. Having been allowed this far, she knew she was close.

Going straight above the band of his underpants she shoved her hand downwards grasping his cock with her thin fingers. His entire body seemed to tighten under her clutch and as she moved her hand up and down him, he released a breath he seemed to have been holding. Feeling a strain on her wrist at the awkward positioning, she used her other hand to pull at at his trousers, dragging his briefs down with them. Gaining full view of his erection she swallowed, her mouth feeling dry all of a sudden at the sight of him. Feeling a sudden urge, she leaned forward, snaking her tongue forwards to lick just under the tip of the head. Severus took a shuddering breath, clenching his fists that were twitching to reach forward and bury themselves in her hair. Knowing she was on the right track, she leaned even closed, taking the whole head into her mouth, sucking gently while trailing her tongue around the swelled tip. Feeling he was completely rigid from top to toe, she hummed in approval as she took him further in. One clenched hand unclenched and buried itself deep in her obsidian black strands and gave a warning tug as she teasingly scraped him lightly with her teeth.

She started a slow rhythm, taking in all she could while gently rubbing the rest with her hand. As her tongue caressed him, she was careful to notice the most sensitive spots on his skin, that made his body stiffen and his throat constrict allowing only small groans to pass through. Feeling his grip on hair tighten, she stopped and allowed him to take the lead, looking up at him through her lashes, his dick still in her mouth. Seemingly willing to take over, he loosened his grip on her hair, and slid his hand to the back of her head, pushing it forward. He went deep, almost triggering her gag-reflex, but she had been prepared, relaxing as much as possible, as he drove himself forward into her mouth. The pace was set high—much higher than before—and she couldn't help but immensely enjoy herself. Him taking charge was a fantasy come true, and as her hands were now free to do whatever they wanted, she trailed one between her legs, slowly rubbing the small swollen point that sent pulses of tingling pleasure through her body. She closed her eyes, moaning and unconsciously setting a rhythm with her hips, wishing his fingers would yet again replace her own. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He had noticed the journey her fingers had gone on, and was thrusting more and more erratically now, prompting Josie to rub a little bit harder against herself.

And suddenly, just as she was about to unravel, he stopped.

Pushing her away from him, so she landed on her behind, he turned away from her, leaning over a table with his palms pressed against the wooden surface. Gathering his breath, he soon pushed himself off the table before shoving his erection back into his pants. As he turned around, Emma could see his walls were back up.

'Damn it. So close.'

As he advanced on her, she had no doubts their moment was over, and she pushed her wayward skirt back onto her thighs in an attempt to cover up. His hand shot forward and grabbed her arm, and pulled her back onto her feet. As soon as she was able to stand on her own, he distanced himself.

"Now," he droned, his voice deep and throaty. His next words were severe, but not completely unexpected. "Remove yourself from my classroom immediately," he continued on, his facade a mix of hot and cold; His words were frosty and his glare fiery. She had no time to reply to his demand before he spoke yet again. "Needless to say, if you are to tell anyone of this encounter, the consequences shall be dire."

Knowing they were back to being student and teacher she straightened her back and replied.

"Naturally," she squeaked out, clearing her throat after the pathetic attempt to speak. Her voice not completely back to normal after their… Escapades. Snape whipped out his wand, and pointed it towards the door that slammed open. Jopesphine jumped at the sound that echoed down the hallway, and as she took one last look at Severus Snape, she found that the look in his eyes suggested that she had better get out of there before someone decided to show up and see where the noise was coming from.

She walked hastily and with purpose, practically throwing herself out of the door that slammed loudly behind her. She hurried down the hallway and not before she turned the first corner did she allow herself to stop and reflect on what had just happened. His hands on her. Her hands—and mouth—on him. She couldn't push down the redness covering her cheeks or the disbelieving laugh that was pushing its way out her throat. She didn't know whether to be embarrassed or ecstatic, but had a feeling that everything that had to do with Severus Snape was bound to trigger conflicting feelings and decided to push it to the back of her mind for the time being, until she was entirely ready to untangle the mess of emotions she was feeling.

Needing to share the incident with someone, she thought briefly of Emma who would most likely still be in the library, studying. Knowing Snape wouldn't hesitate making good on his threats if she were to tell someone, Josephine also knew the chances that she would be able to keep quiet in front of Emma were exceedingly slim. With that in mind, she made her way towards the library.

As she entered the room she found it more or less empty. A handful of students were scattered around the area, a few seemingly having fallen asleep during their venture for knowledge, but it was nothing compared to the bustling masses you would see on a Sunday night, when the many procrastinators in the school had no more hours to delay their homework for Monday morning. It seemed the majority of the students of Hogwarts had better things to be doing on a Tuesday evening than reading up on the properties of the Abyssinian shrivelfig or revising the mating seasons of Red Caps. Both lessons were particularly memorable to Josephine due to their distinct dreariness that had yet to be beaten, even by something as dull as History of Magic.

It was amongst a large pile of Transfiguration books she found Emma. Plopping down on the seat on the opposite side of the table, she balanced an elbow on the table before resting her chin in one hand. Emma had yet to notice her.

"You really should pay more attention to your surroundings," Josephine said casually, making a very concentrated Emma jump and propel her quill halfway through the room in fright.

"Bloody hell, woman," she said, grasping a hand to her heart as if she by pure touch would be able to calm down the blood pumping through her body at a hurried pace. It took her only two seconds to calm down enough to care about her schoolwork. She looked down at her essay with a frown.

"You made me mess up my essay, you tosser," she whined, bunching up another piece of parchment to try and dab the spilled ink off her essay.

"You love me anyway."

The scathing glare sent Josephine's way spoke otherwise.

Giving up on trying to salvage the essay—it was shite anyway—Emma threw down the soiled parchment on the table and leaned back in her chair, scrutinizing the young woman on the other side of the table with suspicion.

"You're back rather soon. What'd you get for your little scheme?" she questioned, folding her arms over her chest with a raised eyebrow. It seemed unlikely Snape would dole out a punishment any shorter than what could be achieved in two hours; Slytherin or not.

Emma caught the hint of a smirk on Josephine's face before it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Josie shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh, you know, the usual, scrubbing cauldrons and all," her smug answer came. Josephine's attitude was entirely disproportionate to the punishment she had just received, but Emma shrugged it off.

"Well, with the way you've been behaving lately, it's not entirely unlikely you'll be on your knees most of our last year," she answered.

Josephine seemed to be choking on air from Emma's comment. She semi-successfully was able to contain the giggle-snort that was threatening to come out and disguise it as a nasty cough, but Emma was not convinced.

"Well, I guess you could call it that," Josie choked out, clearing her throat.

Emma eyed her suspiciously.

"What are you giggling at?"

The smug look returned and the smile Josephine had been trying to conceal was set free. Along with a couple of wiggles of her brows, Emma's eyes widened quite dramatically and she gasped in outrage.

"You didn't! You dirty little skank," she whispered quite loudly, to which Josie put on her signature look of innocence.

"Did what?"

Emma narrowed her comically widened eyes and pointed a threatening finger at Josie.

"Don't you play innocent with me, I was the one who told you to go for it," she whispered, leaning forward so the conversation was kept between the two of them. The Slytherin at the neighbouring table seeming conspicuously interested in their conversation, well, that or she was just very interested in learning how to read about Doxys' physiology and life cycle in a book that was upside down.

"Well, at least around long-eared Slytherins we have a code word for such activities," Emma said, nodding towards the nosy Slytherin, Elsa Shafiq.

Josie spared Elsa a short glance before looking back at Emma, with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Scrubbing cauldrons."

Their manic laughter rang through the deathly silent library, making Elsa Shafiq throw her upside down book into the air, scaring first years out of their sleep. Their loud laughter died down to giggles as they took in the innocent first years who were looking around with blinking eyes and muddled minds.

Within seconds they heard the angry, pounding steps of Irma Pince approaching, and giggled on while scrambling to collect all of Emma's things to escape the wrath of the furious librarian. Emma picked up her wand from the table making Josephine instinctively pat her robes in order to find her own wand. Nothing. Bugger. She had forgotten her wand in the classroom. A smirk came to her lips at the thought as they hid behind large bookcases, trying to find a way to sneak out of the library without being detected.

'Well, it looks like I'll have to go back tomorrow before class. After all, I never did finish scrubbing those cauldrons.'


End file.
